Latest news with #poets
The Independent
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Independent
Why poets deserve their place on Britain's list of ‘skilled workers' for visa applications
So get this: poets are on the Home Office's list of skilled workers, making them eligible for a UK work visa. How do you feel about that? Are you scoffing at the very idea? Reform's Lee Anderson is most certainly scoffing. It's scoff central over at Red Wall HQ. He's almost as apoplectic about the poets as he is about the inclusion and diversity managers who have also made the list. Not that 30p Lee is anti-literature, no, far from it, it's just that we don't need no foreign poets. No, not here in 'the land of literary giants like Shakespeare and PG Wodehouse,' he declares, adding that as 'a nation with the richest literary tradition in the world, the UK does not need to import poets.' I doubt Lee Anderson could actually name any of my contemporary poets, but I did enjoy his use of the word 'import.' It left me with a vision of hundreds of poets crammed into a container ship in big frilly shirts and with quills clutched in their fists, bearing down on the South Coast. Then, once safely through the UK's soft-touch immigration controls, they're loaded onto lorries and distributed to bustling market towns, where they're met by the red-faced inhabitants who stumble blinking from their homes, garden fork raised in one hand and a copy of Right Ho, Jeeves in the other. Perhaps, as a British poet, I should be thanking 30p Lee for this red-toothed protectionism. Foreign poets, coming over here, taking all our line breaks! I'd better be careful, after all if the imported diversity and inclusion managers get together with the imported poets, white, straight cis male scribblers like me are truly screwed. And besides, 'what we urgently need,' this bluff voice of reason continues, 'are doctors, builders, and entrepreneurs – people who will contribute directly to our economy and public services.' Which all sounds very reasonable, doesn't it? What do you want? A doctor to operate on your dying child or a poet to write something YOU CAN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND about autumn? This is how 30p Lee's politics work – they tell us we are in crisis so we have to choose. Choice at the barrel of a gun. But life isn't black and white, life isn't made up of binary choices. Life is complicated and nuanced, knotty and multifaceted, like the best poetry. Poetry is complex, it reaches deep into our psyche, touches what it is to be human. Poetry and other forms of slow, thoughtful writing are a much needed antidote to the shrill political soapboxing of people like Lee Anderson, and indeed snarky think pieces like this one. And let's just put to bed this idea that the arts don't contribute to our economy. The UK's creative industries are worth £125bn, and even we humble poets play our part. Poetry book sales topped £14.4m in 2023, the highest since records began. And whilst it's fun to dismiss poets as either floppy haired Byrons or modern day versions of Rik Mayall's People's Poet, we are in truth grafters. This is my job. I support my family, I pay my mortgage with poetry. I write a new show every year and take it to tens of thousands of people in hundreds of arts centres, theatres and major festivals like Glastonbury and Latitude. And yes, I sometimes get a work visa and tour overseas. It's all part of the great exchange of poets and writers that has always taken place. Writers travel to experience the world, to meet people, to swap ideas, to celebrate our different cultural experiences and the things that unite us as human beings. In the UK we are lucky to welcome poets to these shores each year to electrify us with their words and ideas, enrich our culture, and yes, contribute to our economy. Of course poets are skilled workers, and they belong on that Home Office list. Poets have spent years honing their craft, thinking deeply about human nature. The best poetry can profoundly change us. We reach for poems when we can't find our own words, we rely on them at funerals, weddings, and times of deep crisis to say what we feel but somehow can't articulate. In this way poets advocate for all of us, as much as any politician.
The National
04-07-2025
- General
- The National
'Adheem': Arabic word for great carries moral and emotional weight
Adheem is Arabic for great. Delve into its root and you'll find bones – or rather, the Arabic word in its singular form: adhm. The association isn't a coincidence. To call someone or something adheem is to say it has substance. There's a structural solidity there. Something resolute and not easily tipped over. This density is not merely material – it carries moral and emotional weight. In plural form, adheem becomes udhama. Its feminine form is adheema, with its corresponding plural word being adheemat. Few words are as versatile as this week's Arabic word of the week. It is commonly translated as great, magnificent or mighty. In religious contexts, adheem takes a tone of reverence. Al Adheem is one of the 99 names of Allah, affirming His might and majesty. But the word isn't reserved for the divine. It appears across poetry and advertising, as it does in casual conversations, always suggesting something extraordinary. Someone who delivers a powerful performance might be praised with a simple: "Adheem!" A teacher, mentor or friend can be described as shakhs adheem or great person. The aftermath of a tragedy may be called khasara adheem or a great loss. Its also a word of affirmation. In Levantine Arabic, for instance, it's not unusual to hear adheem used in the same way one might say 'perfect' or 'amazing.' When a student confirms an assignment is understood, the teacher could reply with adheem. Its adaptability is what makes it special. Adheem applies whether speaking of greatness in moral character, emotional intensity, artistic brilliance or sheer-scale. It acknowledges what moves us, humbles us or what deserves pause and admiration.
The Guardian
17-06-2025
- General
- The Guardian
Swifts' decline: how can Britons help these remarkable birds?
The swift (Apus apus) is an acrobatic aerial bird, a remarkable sprinter and endurance flyer that rarely touches the ground. When these sickle-winged birds do come down – after several years in perpetual flight, even sleeping midair – it is to nest in the eaves of roofs across Europe after spending winters in sub-Saharan Africa, migrating 7,000 miles (11,000km) every year. They are celebrated by nature-lovers, artists and poets as they race through city skies on long summer evenings, filling the air with their screaming calls. The fastest bird in level flight (top speed: 69mph/111kph), they feed on airborne insects. Swifts are in trouble because of steep declines in insects, but also because they are losing traditional nesting sites. Swifts once nested in caves and hollow trees but moved into buildings hundreds of years ago. Modern insulation, particularly in roofs, removes the crevices and cavities where they have nested for centuries. Grim. Swift populations slumped by 66% between 1995 and 2022 in Britain and have continued a rapid downward trend. Since the last count of 59,000 breeding pairs, the population this summer is set to be just 40,000 pairs. In five years' time, there could be fewer than 25,000, unless action is taken. Declines are not so pronounced across continental Europe despite similar insect declines. Countries such as Germany and France appear to have retained more nesting sites in old buildings than in Britain, where few buildings constructed after 1944 can accommodate swifts. A swift brick is a hollow brick which slots into the brickwork of new or old homes, providing a cavity where swifts can nest. The bricks have also been found to help other cavity-nesting birds, including the rapidly declining red-listed house martin, house sparrow and starling. Other species including blue tits, great tits, nuthatches and wrens will also nest in the bricks. Swift bricks are made by brick manufacturers large and small, and typically cost about £35. There is a British Standard for them and some developers are already fitting them to new homes. Three years ago, the writer and bird lover Hannah Bourne-Taylor launched a campaign to oblige every new home to be fitted with a swift brick. When in opposition, the UK Labour party supported the 'swift brick amendment', first tabled by the Conservative peer Zac Goldsmith, to do this in England. Now in government, Labour is resisting attempts by its own backbench MP Barry Gardiner to insert a swift brick amendment into the controversial planning and infrastructure bill. Labour is reluctant to impose additional regulations on housebuilders as it attempts to address the UK's housing affordability crisis with a big push for new homes. Nearly 30 housebuilders have voluntarily agreed to install one brick for every new home built. Labour's latest move is to suggest adding swift bricks to national planning policy guidance so that all England's local planning authorities insist on them for new homes. But Bourne-Taylor says this won't guarantee more swift bricks, because many planning authorities lack the resources to ensure planning conditions are met. A recent study found developers, who make multi-billions in profits, were not providing 75% of the nesting boxes stipulated in planning permissions. 'By refusing to mandate swift bricks, the government is making it clear to their voters that they do not care about nature because this would be the easiest nature recovery action, ever,' said Bourne-Taylor. 'Loads of people have told me that they will never vote Labour again because of how the government have acted on swift bricks.' Wooden swift boxes are widely available and are suitable for swifts, provided they can be installed at least 4.5m above ground and not on a south-facing aspect, because this is too hot for the nesting birds. Retrofitting an integral brick is more expensive but slightly better because it provides a cooler space and will last longer than a wooden box. Even if a swift box is ignored by swifts, it will be a boon to other birds. And there are many other ways to help swifts. The Swift Local Network unites swift lovers across Britain. Local groups rescue fallen birds and protect existing nesting sites: talking to neighbours who have swifts in their roofs raises awareness if roofs are renovated. The government's commitment to insulate Britain will be welcomed by all environmentally minded voters, but this makes it more crucial than ever that swift bricks are integrated into all new homes. Campaigners are emailing the housing secretary, Angela Rayner, to let her know. Site-faithful swifts sometimes take a while to discover new nesting opportunities. If house sparrows first take up residence, this is good news because swifts often seek out nesting spaces where they see sparrows – they are a signal for swifts that there are good homes here! Some people play swift calls from a window close to a new nestbox to attract curious swifts when they first arrive back in Britain in May. This can help, but usually only in areas that already have swift populations.
The Guardian
14-06-2025
- The Guardian
‘On a peak under a blue sky': the joy of summer in Europe's mountains
After a tough scramble to the summit of Rhinog Fach, we look down into the deep valley holding the chilly waters of Llyn Hywel, then west across several miles of heather, bilberry and bare rock to the Welsh coast. Turning my gaze north, there is the entire Llyn peninsula leading east to the peak of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon), no doubt weighed down by thousands of visitors. Up here there are just two of us in an utterly peaceful landscape. No clouds on the horizon. No surprises. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. I lie down for a few minutes and feel myself drift off. There are no human voices to be heard, only birds. Summer has come early to these mountains and I wouldn't be anywhere else, drinking in that particular kind of tranquillity to be found on a peak under a blue sky. Mountains were not always seen as appropriate places to relax on a summer's day. Those lofty, mist-wreathed realms held surprises, most of them nasty, such as trolls and demons. Maybe a few ancient folk knew perfectly well that mountains in summer were wonderful, but they weren't the sort to publicise the fact: the solitary shepherd, gold prospectors not yet consumed by gold fever, and the workers who put up drystone walls – they all must have known the joy of lazing on a summit, perhaps seeing shapes in clouds. Changing culture and taste took a revolution led by artists and poets, men such as Nicolas Poussin, who in the 17th century tried to win people over with paintings of mysterious peaks and epic landscapes. Unfortunately, he couldn't resist adding a fallen Grecian column and a nymph draped in wispy stuff. It took another 150 years before the German artist Caspar David Friedrich relocated the wispy bits to the mountain tops, evicted the nymphs, and added one rugged poetic type, gazing out over the towering tors with a vaguely proprietorial air. His Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog (1818, now in Hamburg at the Kunsthalle) remains the most evocative depiction of the romantic ideal. After that painting, summer in the mountains was de rigueur, but it turned out that Friedrich's sturdy 19th-century mountaineer was actually looking for a place to build a man-shed. All over the continent, wealthy romantics started funding simple dormitory accommodation, often precariously balanced on vertiginous crags. These mountain refuges were vital in allowing people to access the peaks, and became a huge part of my own enjoyment of the mountains. The first to be built was Refuge des Grands Mulets on Mont Blanc in 1853. There is still a hut there, rebuilt a couple of times, perched at 3,051 metres (10,009ft), overlooking the Bossons glacier. My own favourite, Rifugio Nuvolau, is a period classic in the Dolomites, built in 1883 and a haven of stout carpentry, hearty food and astonishing sunsets. Not all are antiques: Monte Rosa near Zermatt is an aluminium solar-powered box that sits above the Gorner glacier and requires ropes and crampons in order to reach it. Some huts are very high indeed: the Margherita on the Italian Monte Rosa is, at 4,554 metres, the highest building in Europe. Sweden's Låktatjåkko (1,228 metres) is both high in altitude and latitude: it's 155 miles (250km) inside the Arctic Circle and often buried in snow, even in summer. Digging to the front door is worth the effort: they serve fantastic waffles with cloudberry jam. The staff in these huts are usually charming and helpful. Not all guests, however, are so wonderful. 'There was one British visitor who, during the course of the night, pushed all the other sleepers along the dormitory bench,' complained one French guest after staying in Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori in Corsica. 'He left a huge empty space behind him and we were all squashed up in one corner.' (I've no idea why I rolled like that. I was fast asleep.) Making a reservation in one of these treasures can require persistence. The famous ones are often booked out, but many of the huts I've mentioned have alternatives nearby. Where there are no mountain huts available, a tent is not always needed. In Romania's Carpathians, I've slept in hay ricks after jolly evenings drinking plum brandy with farmers. Sadly, the hay rick is disappearing as agriculture modernises, but the Carpathians remain a fine mountain destination. Once a local hunter persuaded me to go on a bear hunt (no guns involved). We climbed through shady pine forest and golden flower-sprinkled meadows to warm rock and vast vistas. The hunter described a recent incident when he was chased up a tree by a bear. He proved it by showing his rucksack, complete with claw marks. On our descent, we stumbled on a fresh bear track and, for a second, the idyllic evening was shot through by lightning bolts of adrenaline. An undeniable fact of mountain life is that moments of arcadian bliss can be abruptly ended. You go up in sun, and descend in a wild storm. The unpredictable must be expected. Helm Crag in the Lake District was a favourite of Romantic poet William Wordsworth and for that reason many go to commune with nature. One blustery lunchtime, I was sitting a little below the craggy summit about to enjoy a picnic when a group on the top suddenly flung their grandmother into the air. Caught by the wind, the old lady was whipped sideways and down, straight into the sandwich that was about to go in my mouth. Ash-scattering ceremonies really should be more careful. The ancestor went to her final resting place tainted with Branston pickle. Sign up to The Traveller Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays after newsletter promotion British mountains aren't enlivened by European-style huts, but we do have bothies, camping barns, the Youth Hostels Association (YHA), and a number of good cottages for hire. To climb the Rhinogydd (often anglicised to Rhinogs), I based myself at the off-grid retreat of Garth Gell farm, all lovely hand-worn woodwork, flagstone floors and dusty books. The Rhinogydd are often touted as the most rugged mountain chain south of Hadrian's Wall, which is a bit hard on the North Pennines and Cheviots, but the paths are certainly steep and challenging, deterring many visitors. The chain stretches for about 13 miles, with the highest point at Y Llethr (756 metres) where the 360-degree panorama is really special. The view is, of course, a big part of the attraction. We go up because we can see further. My snooze on Rhinog Fach is interrupted by my companion. 'Look!' he says. The best summer mountain experiences always have that unexpected moment: the bear jumps out and claws your rucksack, human remains land in your picnic … that kind of thing. I sit up, suddenly alert. 'On the wall. Down there.' There's a bird, its pale chest striped with grey, its tail fanned out in annoyance as a horde of smaller birds are mobbing it. And then it calls. I have never considered the cuckoo to be a mountain bird, but there it is at 600 metres on a Welsh hill. And at the same time, away to the west, the haze lifts a little and the blue horizon puckers behind the last bit of Wales. The Blackstairs Mountains of Ireland have appeared. A summer's day in the mountains is complete. Accommodation was provided by Garth Gell, a Kip hideaway, which sleeps six from £240 a night
Times
18-05-2025
- Health
- Times
Feeling blue? Daily doses of awe ‘fend off depression and stress'
Poets have long been entranced by awe, that fleeting shiver of wonder you might feel while gazing at an endlessly starry sky or the geometry of a perfect snowflake. A study has now suggested that the emotion has medicinal properties, too, with a daily dose being found to ease depressive symptoms and reduce stress. This did not require trekking to mountaintops or witnessing eclipses. Simply pausing to admire the intricacy of the veins of a leaf or being astonished by the scale of the universe after listening to a science podcast was often enough to spark the desired effect. 'Our data suggest that finding moments of awe in daily life can shift how we view ourselves and our lives overall, and how stressful and meaningful
